


The Hunt.

by Ultra_chrome



Category: due South
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-18
Updated: 2007-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra_chrome/pseuds/Ultra_chrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something was up! Good something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunt.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dS April fools. So no beta.

Something was up! Good something. Diefenbaker knew this because he could hear humming. Humming was good all by itself because there were no annoying breaks. Just a soothing almost buzzy kind of noise.

When humans communicated with each other it got too hard. All these different lengths of hum with different pitches and it was so confusing now that his ears didn’t work so good. Humming though, was most agreeable. Humming didn’t make him want to go away from people, it made him want to get closer to them.

Since he’d discovered that people did the humming thing when they were all alone, he liked it even more. Alone people meant pats. Alone people liked his company and he could get them to scratch anywhere he wanted, just by positioning himself.

Humming people were also usually doing something interesting. If he wasn’t feeling scritchy, he could always find some entertainment trying to work out why they did the things they did. Humans wasted so much time doing things that didn’t matter, like wetting their clothing and making it smell like chemicals just so they could dry it out again.

Fraser was the absolute best fun to watch. He did more pointless things than any human Dief had ever met. There was this thing he had, that he plugged in and then rubbed over stuff he had on a table. He rubbed it over his clothing, his hat, his boots. Dief sometimes thought if he sat still long enough, Fraser would rub it over him, too. Judging by how warm everything was after it came off that table, he didn’t think that would be much fun.

Right now, Fraser was sitting at his desk scratching a stick on paper. Again. So it wasn’t him that was humming, but it was definitely a male humm. That meant Turnbull, and when Turnbull hummed it was always worth looking at.

As Dief trotted out the door and into the hallway, he wondered if he’d find Turnbull in his silly dress waving his dead chicken around at the furniture. That was almost as much fun to see as Fraser trying to not get caught staring at Ray. Dief tried to guess whether Turnbull would have his pink hands on, or his yellow ones. He liked the yellow ones best.

There was no sign of any humans in the foyer, so Dief lifted his nose and sniffed the air to find out which direction to go in. That’s when he smelt it. His heart leapt for joy and his mouth started watering instantly. Turnbull was in the kitchen! Humming and cooking! Life didn’t get much better than that, except when you added chocolate.

He tried to act nonchalant as he strolled into the kitchen and sat politely just inside the doorway. There were bowls everywhere and bags with dusty stuff that he knew tasted awful until they were mixed with eggs or butter.

Turnbull stopped humming to himself and squatted down in front of Dief.

“Good afternoon, Diefenbaker. Do you require my assistance with a pressing matter?”

Dief just blinked in amazement. As if he’d trust this one with anything pressing. He’d tried that before and it hadn’t been any use. Mostly, the Red people were clumsy or ignorant and sometimes both. Fraser was the only one he could trust, but Fraser had been Brown people when they met, so he was different. Brown and natural smelling, just like people should be.

After a moment, Turnbull seemed to get the message and went back to his humming. Dief watched closely, paying attention to the different kinds of dust going into the bowl. There was a lot of sugar, which meant sweet stuff. The day just got better and better.

His real target was still sitting wrapped on the table, so he’d have to play this cool. He sprawled out on the floor and gave a deliberate yawn. He didn’t want to look predatory, or his prey wouldn’t be left near enough to the edge for him to succeed.

He watched the butter go into the bowl and decided Turnbull was making chocolate coated shortbread for afternoon tea. It was going to be a shame to miss out on that, but there was no way he’d get any if his plan was successful. You had to make sacrifices for the important things in life. Fraser kept telling him that and Dief agreed. Fraser just had his priorities wrong most of the time.

He tried not to think about the shortbread too much as he formulated his plan. He did this sort of thing so often that he had to vary the attack or Turnbull would be onto him. Today he decided to go back to basics.

He positioned himself just right to get the best view and then rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes, sighing. He wanted to look asleep, so that he could then open one eye the tiniest bit to keep watch.

He waited patiently while Turnbull fussed over little blobs of dough and placed them in the oven. The time was drawing near, now. Dief found himself holding his breath in anticipation and let it out in what he hoped sounded like a sleepy wuffle.

It must have worked because the humming didn’t stop and he could see Turnbull’s boots heading back toward the table. The toes were pointing away from him, so Dief risked opening both eyes a little to get a better view.

There was a flash of silver and the smell of milk chocolate got suddenly stronger. It was time to act!

He jumped up and gave his best startled yip, running out the door. He followed with a low growl a moment later and then he saw Turnbull come running from the kitchen, towel in hand and looking quite nervous.

Dief doubled back and ran close enough to Turnbull to unbalance the poor man, giving himself a few extra precious seconds.

His paws lost grip as he skidded around the corner into the kitchen, but he’d done this before and knew how to twist his body to take advantage of the slide. He dropped his haunches a little just in front of the table and he was up on his back legs before they’d even stopped sliding.

It was touch and go for a second and he had to make two grabs before his mouth closed over his prize. The chocolate settled against his tongue as his teeth gripped it securely and then he was off again, running for his life.

He bumped into Turnbull as he sped out the door, but his momentum was greater and he felt the thud through the floorboards behind him as the man fell.

Freedom was only seconds away now. A left turn into the office and he was gathering himself for the leap when he heard Fraser’s voice yell something that sounded suspiciously like his name. It was too late to stop though, and he sailed through the open window and ran on until he was safely hidden under his favourite bush.

It was only then that he let himself taste the creamy sweetness that had melted in the heat of his mouth as he’d been running. It was ecstasy and this time he’d managed to catch a whole block.  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know chocolate is really bad for dogs. But I also know that the effects are cumulative, with some dogs never showing any side effects and others suffering badly. And that dark chocolate is much worse. I also know that a canid of Dief's size would most likely be okay eating one block of milk chocolate. I'm not condoning the slow poisoning of dogs by chocolate, so please be more careful than Turnbull.
> 
> And let's face it, canon makes no bones about the fact that Dief hunts chocolate.


End file.
